Pirates of the Caribbean: Cursed
by CaptainAnnieFinn
Summary: Kind of a continuation, Jack the monkey took the coin from the chest and Jack the pirate, Will, Elizabeth, and numerous others must suffer the consequences. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

The deck of the ship that Jack Sparrow was standing on, the deck of the Black Pearl, was usually the color of the very trees it was made from, presumably the like which could be found in the midst of the Caribbean. Unlike most ships, if you looked closely at this particular one, you could see each imperfection. These tiny flaws; the plank on the far left going against the grain, or the one near the helm with the knobbly side up, or the section in the bowsprit where the net didn't quite meet up to the bow planking, seemed to tell you all the stories the ship had to tell, if you were willing to listen. It might tell you how when building the Black Pearl, the man whose job it had been to line up the planks in the proper order to be nailed down, had a wife who was delivering their first child, a healthy baby boy, on the day the shipbuilders were piecing together the far left side and was therefore distracted by other matters. It might tell you that when the woodcutters in the Caribbean were chopping the wood for the Pearl, a certain lumberman had been blinded in one eye the day before in a fistfight and could not detect the lumpiness of the wood he was chopping. Or, it just may tell you the distinctly longer and more complex tale of the bowsprit netting, which up until one year before this moment, had been (along with the rest of the ship) in possession of a truly evil and sinister man by the name of Barbossa, and how it had come to be ripped and then poorly matched again in a madcap battle along the Caribbean shoals. The last was what Jack Sparrow was thinking about this quiet morning; that, and that the deck which was usually colored brown was at the moment colored red, reflecting a dangerous sky for sailing. One year ago today his adventure had ended, and though he regained ownership of the Pearl, he was forced to leave two people he would now begrudgingly call his friends.

All day Jack tried to ignore the blood colored sky he had looked out on in the early morning. He had a delightfully disgusting breakfast of rum- soaked biscuits( it killed the maggots inside) and gruel that looked, tasted, and probably was left over from the days before Barbossa's captainship. He then lost eight hands of blind man's poker to Mr. Cotton's parrot before slamming down his cards and taking a stroll on middeck. After yelling out a few orders he was feeling better, but the feeling of discontent at the red sky formed a knot like a bullet in his gut. He tried once more to ignore it. Still, as it never hurt to be prepared, Jack prepared his ship for a storm, securing the rigging, pulling in the guns, dropping the flags (with the air and water as still as they were there was to be little progress that day anyway). Evening was falling as Jack sat down to supper in the galley with Anamaria, with whom he would later stargaze in the birds-nest, making up their own constellations and telling the myths behind them, one of their favorite evening activities. At least that was the plan. What actually happened was, as the crew below was sitting down to supper, Jack was still on deck lowering the flags. As he neatly pulled them down and folded them, a thin shaft of moonlight landed on his arm. His arm which, to Jack's immense surprise, was no longer covered in the muscle, sinew, and tanned skin he had grown so accustomed to, but dry white bone.

"That's not supposed to happen," he muttered aloud.

"Surprised, are we, Jack?" came a menacing drawl from behind him. Jack knew that drawl all too well. He whipped around and deftly drew his sword in defense.

"You're meant to be dead. How ever did you wriggle out of that one?" he cried.

Barbossa shook his head, matted gray hair swinging lifelessly at the sides of his face.

"Jack..." Jack hated when his ex-first mate said his name that way, as if stretching it to see how far it would go without breaking: Jaaaaaaaaaaaaack. "Jack," he repeated. "It was all thanks to Jack, really..."

How could I possibly have messed up killing someone? Jack thought. And why is he speaking to me as if I'm not here?

"The monkey Jack..." Barbossa continued.

Oh. Well.

"He managed to snatch a coin from the chest the day you so kindly ended that curse. And by kindly I mean a mistake for which you shall pay!" he spat.

"...And why haven't I been able to see it until now?" Jack asked, frowning as he wiped spittle from his cheek.

"Trick of the curse. The gods' anger has been growing. Thing is, we now need everyone's blood in that chest from a year before it ended, along with a bit of their soul," Barbossa said cheerily.

"What are you so pleased about?" asked Jack cautiously.

"Because when the curse ends this time, a great reward is given to the Godkeeper, in this case Jack- the monkey Jack. Since he will have no use for it, it'll be passed on to me."

"What's the reward?"

"Eternal life, youth, and riches beyond imagination."

"The gods aren't a creative bunch, are they?" Jack voiced.

"Maybe not," Barbossa leered, "But I'll take it over your fate."

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

"I burn your ship," Barbossa sang remorselessly.

"That's the best they could come up with?" Jack mused. "And what if I just kill you now?" Jack brandished his sword lazily in the direction of Barbossa's heart.

"Jack..." Barbossa looked smug now. "Remember when I told you that the gods' anger was growing? Do you know what it's grown into?" he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet like a child with a naughty secret.

"Enlighten me," Jack growled.

"Have you ever heard of...Elementals?"

Jack dropped his sword with a clang he didn't seem to notice and gulped. "I thought they didn't exist," he whispered.

"They do; Earth, Air, Fire..."

"...and Water." Jack finished. "I can't believe it. And...the tasks they set for the Disturbers of Nature?"

"Nigh impossible, just like the stories."

"And the punishments?" Jack asked gravely.

"Yes. Eternal damnation, the loss of your soul, watching everyone you know die in agony. _And_ I'll burn your ship." Barbossa added.

Jack winced. "How do we stop it?"

"Well for a start, we'll need those young ones from a year ago. And a bit of their soul, but we'll worry about that later."

"So that means Port Royal," said Jack slowly. "We'll set the bearings now. Er- care for a drink?"


	2. Chapter 2

The two Turner newlyweds hadn't an inkling of the dire situation of their fate. In fact, they couldn't be less interested in the subject. At that moment, Elizabeth was preparing herself for a supper with the Port Royal dignitaries on the subject of, what else, but the proper handling of the pirates currently rampaging the Caribbean. As the Governor's daughter, she was expected to attend, but the topic had always made her rather uncomfortable. She expected that her idea of proper handling differed slightly from, say, Commodore Norrington's, whose ideas ran more towards tarring and hanging the pirates, rather than escaping the Port's stuffy suppers and functions on their beautiful ships to sail free with the wind…

Truth be told, in the past year the very thought of disciplining any pirates had made her decidedly queasy. The Commodore's ever fierce and gruesome descriptions of his desired punishments called to Elizabeth's mind a frightening image of a rotting skeleton, made recognizable by his many tattered scarves and bangles. Strange as it seemed to her, Elizabeth could not bear the thought of Jack Sparrow hanging in a gibbet or from a yardarm; but, she supposed, there were some experiences that you could not come out of with another person without being friends, and surviving a battle with skeletal, bloodthirsty pirates was one of them.

Elizabeth, as she dressed, found herself very much missing Jack, and very much wishing that she were sailing off into the sunset on the Pearl, and not attending an airless discussion of the etiquette of torture: when it was appropriate, if it ever wasn't appropriate, how many pirates did they think they had left to catch before wiping them out, and how they would catch the most elusive sea robbers. Of course, Jack Sparrow was at the top of their list. She took a deep breath, checked her appearance one last time in the ornate mirror of her room, and descended the stairs, hoping that at least Captain Barkin, of Port Royal's main privateer ship, had brought his wife Ellen along to the supper so she might have someone interesting to talk to.

Will Turner was currently at his new forge, a small but sturdy little shop in the center of the town. It wasn't much, but it was his own to claim and he was apprenticed to no man, a situation he quickly adapted to. He chuckled quietly to himself, musing that this was yet another quality Jack Sparrow would label as most pirate- like. Will found himself thinking more and more about Jack Sparrow- he was happy with his life; he loved his forge, he loved his wife, he loved his work, he even loved their ramshackle and leaning little house near the beach- but he wondered if there may have been truth to Jack's words. Will was no fool; though Jack's movements and mumblings may seem like insanity, he spoke with a wisdom beyond what one would expect from a sunburned pirate captain. Still deep in thought, Will resumed the in-depth cleaning job that his fixer-upper of a shop required.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack sighed, a sigh that was more of a groan that a sigh, and ran his callused fingers over his weathered face. What the hell was he going to do now? Elementals… he racked his brain, picking through memories of drunken nights spent in dark corners of pubs listening to sailor's tales, memories of fellow jailmates passing the time telling stories, memories of anything he may have ever heard about Elementals! For a pirate, Jack was not a very superstitious man, a surprising fact considering his past experience. He took most of these stories with a grain of salt from his beloved sea, the sea which no story could frighten him away from.

Elementals, though. The mention alone was enough to scare a pirate right out of his boots. And now they were after him, Jack, and why? Oh, right. Because he was Captain Jack Sparrow, and if anyone had ever let him finish his introduction, they would know that Captain Jack Sparrow had the worst luck of anyone in the Spanish Main, anyone in the Caribbean, anyone in the whole world. He brought his fist down on the table, making a hollow thump and rocking the dim candle back and forth. He returned to his papers, smoothing the curled parchment and concentrating on deciphering the words of the legends through years of grime, other languages, water stains, and some menacing dark marks that looked horribly like blood. He had had to look through all of his papers, through the many chests of documents and scraps of things he found important to find what he was looking for. There were very few written stories of Elementals, because they were so intimidating and so beyond the reach of believability, but Jack had encountered these forms in a tavern on some remote island, Cayman or St. Martin perhaps, where few pirates came for very long. Jack himself had never been back, as the mosquitoes had given him a rather nasty disease that he hadn't ever wished to contract again, but before leaving he had struck up a rather inebriated conversation with a Haitian escaped slave, raving with the yellow jack fever, who had pressed the documents into his hands and informed him of the dangers of angering the highest of the heathen gods. He spoke volumes of the punishments, curses, illnesses they might inflict upon you. Er, at least Jack had thought it had been yellow jack…

Elementals, steal your soul, rot for eternity, etcetera… Jack read.

"The elementals will stop at nothing until your debt is repaid or they have your soul."

How do you repay your debt! Jack thought.

"It is nigh impossible to pay your debt, as these forces of evil do not allow your fee to be seen."

Oh, wonderful.

Wait…

"However, one man possesses the ability to obtain this information. Nero DeMisu, a London native sent to discover new lands and riches was intercepted along the way by unknown pirates and discovered to have the gift of godsight. DeMisu is the key to salvation. DeMisu is currently said to reside in the pirate kingdom of Libertaria-"

Jack choked. "LIbertaria?" he murmured aloud. "Impossible…impossible. It doesn't exist…it's a legend…impossible…"

Jack leapt up and dashed to the small chest in the corner of his cabin and threw it open, digging around for-

Ah. The compass. Jack took the Isle de Muerta compass, gripped the extension, and twisted hard. After a few struggling moments, it spun off, just like the lid of Jack's favorite spicy Jamaican pickles. Gazing into the opening it left, Jack laughed out loud. Of course, he thought. How did I ever miss it?

"Mr. Gibbs!" he called. "Let's see if we can't make Port Royal by sunrise."


	4. Chapter 4

Elizabeth stifled a yawn. The supper had been going on for what seemed like hours, and Elizabeth was growing tired and insufferably bored. After a while, even her the uneasy feeling that she might hear something bad about Jack had subsided and given in to the mindless hum inside her brain.

"But Commodore! Surely you don't mean that pirates have a haven? Admittedly, I had heard of a port town somewhere that was receptive to their needs and asked few questions, but a safe haven is another matter entirely!"

"True, Barkin, but you must think about it logically: where do pirates go between their voyages? And after? Where do they find crews, restock and repair, stash their immense loot? A pirate isn't always at sea, Barkin, and they are not too difficult to recognize."

Elizabeth yawned again, this time letting it escape. Mrs. Barkin, whose stories of her previous life in Barbados with her traveling father usually kept Elizabeth in stitches, but tonight Ellen seemed distracted; she fluctuated exuberant and listless. There were moments of Ellen's natural, fizzy self, and times when Elizabeth could not pry a word from her. When Elizabeth had commented on her stunning gold necklace, it took several moments to grasp her attention, and when she did, Ellen closed her fist tightly over the pendant, eyes flashing. The next second her eyes cleared and it looked as if she had no memory of her strange behavior. It seemed almost as if she were two people trapped in the same body.

"I understand your thinking, Commodore, but I doubt highly that there is a pirate asylum anywhere- between the English colonies and the Soanish, our fleets would have turned up something by now, don't you think?"

"Barkin, there are many places that we have yet to discover. Why, only last year Jack Sparrow led us to an island-"

Jack? Elizabeth snapped out of her reverie and looked up at Commodore Norrington.

"-we had never heard of and it turned out to be simply crawling with pirates!"

The sound of Jack's name and the mention of their adventure sent a small shiver down Elizabeth's spine. Absentmindedly she traced the scar along her palm where it had been cut last year.

"Speaking of which, any word on Sparrow, Commodore?" asked the Governor. Elizabeth thought she caught a slightly amused tone in his voice and smiled.

Norrington let a sort of bemused expression drift over his features. "I've heard hide nor hair of Sparrow, actually. He seems to be keeping to himself, or attacking only the Spanish these days. Can't say that I'm complaining, of course."

Elizabeth relaxed as their conversation floated off again into the realm of trials and executions, still touching her scar. All of a sudden, she jumped in her seat as if she'd been burned. Elizabeth gasped her palm. For a split second it had burned with pain. Looking at it now, Elizabeth stared in amazement. The thin line scar that was usually slightly raised and pale pink in color appeared to be glowing faintly. She looked closer. Yes, it was glowing, a red hue emanating from her very skin. Elizabeth looked up quickly to see if anyone had noticed her started reaction. No, the room was still buzzing quietly about the same issues it had been a moment before. Except…

Ellen Barkin was staring at her with an intensity Elizabeth had never known.


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, I think I just got the concept of this whole uploading thing…

WOO!

Thanks for reading, I wish you would review…that's what makes me write…anyway!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my made up characters and shoddy plot.

BTW- No coincidence on the name; I was looking at my bedroom wall while writing and I have tons of pictures wallpapering my room, and, being too lazy to get up or think of a name, I glanced at a poster next to my bed that included Leonardo DiCaprio's filmography, which mentioned Ellen Barkin. Hope that answered your question, "name' (sorry I'm not hooked up to the net and I forgot your name! sorry!)

Jack awoke groggily and rubbed his eyes. Sleep slid off him in waves, and after he'd shaken off the first few he began to remember the events of the previous evening. As his thoughts returned he started and, in one graceful flow of muscle, he leapt up and promptly tripped on his boots and staggered out the door and was on deck within a moment. His kohl-lined eyes took in the Pearl's surroundings, scanning the seascape in a 360: water, water, flying fish in water, water, and- ah…land ho.

"Mr, Gibbs?" Jack called, his mouth twisting into a satisfied grin. "Is that what I think it is?"

At the sound f his captain's voice, Gibbs clambered off the rigging with his telescope and hurried to answer. "Aye, cap'n. We made it in record time! Almost like the ship knows we're in a hurry, eh?"

Jack made a noncommittal noise in his throat, distracted. If even the Pearl was rushing, Barbossa couldn't have been lying about the Elementals. Well, the sooner the could get started. All he had to do now was get Will and Elizabeth-

Oh, dear. Will and Elizabeth. Jack was quite aware that, although they shared a very special bond of friendship, they were not going to appreciate him blowing on to their front doorstep to whisk them away on another life-risking expedition. They had adventure in their blood, but no one had _that_ much adventure. Well, maybe Jack did. But he wouldn't admit it.

Port Royal was beginning to come into more detailed view. Jack could see small people with small tasks on shore, and he smiled in spite of himself. In this landscape he remembered the almost enjoyable events of last year. He could see the dock that he and Will had maneuvered around to get to the Dauntless, he could see the cliffs where Elizabeth had fallen. He could see where Will had, against his better judgment, freed Jack from prison to pursue a piratical undertaking.

Well- no he couldn't. But he imagined he could, staring up at the high stone walls of the fort. Jack thought specifically about this memory, however. Spending time with Will was remarkably like spending time with Bill Turner. They shared looks, scruples, blood…the wrinkle in the brow they both got when scrunching up their noses at something particularly ridiculous that had come out of Jack's mouth. Jack felt a twinge at his heart. He was looking forward to seeing the Turners. They probably weren't even expecting him.

Surprise!

"Weigh anchor, Mr. Gibbs! We don't want to get so close they recognize us. Draw up a longboat for me as well."

"Aye, cap'n."

"I intend to persuade the Turners to come aboard with us. Er- this may take a while. Anamaria, you come with me. The rest of you, don't let _anything_ happen to my ship."

Sorry, this chapter was really short and uneventful. It was kind of more to get my creative juices flowing again after my week from hell. I hope it'll pick up pace after next chapter.


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